


I hunt for you with bloodied feet (across the hallowed ground)

by mediwitch3



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Alpha Eddie Diaz, Alpha Evan "Buck" Buckley, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Evan "Buck" Buckley, Buck is a Good Dad, Caring Eddie Diaz, Christopher Diaz Has Two Dads, Christopher Diaz is a National Treasure, Dad Evan "Buck" Buckley, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Full Shift Werewolves, Knotting, M/M, Mating, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oblivious Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Oblivious Evan "Buck" Buckley, Protective Evan "Buck" Buckley, Requited Unrequited Love, Scent Marking, Scenting, Scents & Smells, Top Eddie Diaz, Werewolves, Werewolves Turn Into Actual Wolves, Wolf Instincts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:15:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24205000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mediwitch3/pseuds/mediwitch3
Summary: “I’m fully capable of controlling myself, Maddie,” Buck says, “your lack of faith is astounding.”“Listen, any other time, you would have my complete faith,” she tells him seriously, “but this thing with Eddie is different, you’ve never had someone like that around during your ruts before.”Buck gives her a flat look. “He won’t be there for my rut.”She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. Your instincts are all crazy right now and your control is tenuous at best so just...”“Just what, Maddie?” Buck passes a tired hand over his face again.“Just be careful, that’s all I’m saying,” she sighs.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 48
Kudos: 1015





	I hunt for you with bloodied feet (across the hallowed ground)

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ:
> 
> this is NOT an abo fic. everyone in this story is a werewolf who can transform into a real wolf with a human consciousness. All male wolves have knots, so i tagged this with alpha/alpha but they're technically betas according to wolf hierarchy.
> 
> The mildly dubious consent tag is for rut-related reasons, but be assured that everything that happens is wanted by both parties even if it isn't explicitly discussed beforehand, i just added it to be safe
> 
> this was a prompt from tumblr, asked by an anon who wanted eddie realizing that buck was his mate because christopher started treating him like a parent with lots of scenting...and it devolved so here it is in all it's glory

Buck knows Christopher isn’t his kid, okay? The sane, logical, _human_ part of his brain is able to differentiate that his friend’s kid is not his kid. That’s fine.

He just sometimes has a bit more trouble convincing the wolf part.

The wolf that prowls around the bonds with Eddie and Christopher inside his head and snarls _mine mine mine_ in a never ending mantra, that can pick Eddie and Christopher’s scents out of a crowd of a hundred people without so much as a blink, that sees Eddie and wants to roll over onto his back and bare his belly in submission. The wolf that knows his den is not really his, but that Eddie’s den _is_.

It’s not an ideal situation, if he’s honest. He knows Eddie doesn’t feel that way about him, that the scenting and the marking are just wires getting crossed ’cause Buck hangs out with his kid. He’d be lying if he said he minded.

“Where’s the ball and chain?” He _could_ do without extraneous comments from the rest of his pack, though. He turns to glare at Chimney, who’s taking a huge bite out of an apple and smirking.

“You know he’s off today, don’t be a dick,” Buck says, turning back to his book. He ignores the way the couch shifts as Chimney flops down next to him.

“No need to get snappy,” Chimney quips, “what’s he doing off if you’re here?”

“How should I know?” He grumbles, staring hard at the page. “I’m not his keeper.”

“Right,” Chimney’s voice is smug, “it’s the other way around, I forgot. My bad.”

Buck clenches his jaw, fighting to keep his canines from slipping down into position. He’s clutching his book with white-knuckled hands, breathing heavily, and when he looks up at Chimney, whose eyes are wide with disbelief, he knows his own eyes are glowing unnaturally blue.

He gets a face full of fabric just as he opens his mouth to snarl at Chim to fuck off, Eddie’s scent washing over him like a balm. He brings his hands up to hold it, breathing deep the smell of sweat and cologne as his heart stops racing. His gums aren’t aching anymore, and he knows his eyes have returned to their normal color.

When he opens them again, Hen is standing over him with an eyebrow raised. Chimney’s still staring at him like he’s gone crazy, but there’s something smug still lingering around his eyes. He feels himself blushing.

“Sorry, Chim,” he mumbles, but he doesn’t bring Eddie’s shirt away from his face yet. He resists the urge to rub it over his neck so he’ll smell just a little like Eddie for the rest of the day, but he can’t stop himself from taking another deep breath.

“This is getting out of control,” Hen tells him, perching on the arm of the couch across from them, “what the hell are you doing, wolfing out on Chim after a few idiot words?”

Buck gives her a look. She raises her brows again. He stares at her, trying to convey with just his eyes what he doesn’t wanna say out loud over the top of Eddie’s shirt. Her eyes narrow.

“No way,” she says. Buck shrugs, taking the fabric away from his face to hold in his lap. “ _Now_?”

“Probably not for another month,” he hedges, “but yeah, soon.”

“What’s soon?” Chim asks, and Buck glares at him.

“What do you _think_?” He growls out. Chim’s mouth makes a perfect ’o’ of surprise.

“Does Eddie know?” Hen asks. Buck whips around to look at her.

“No, and you’re not gonna tell him,” he insists, “it’s not his problem.”

-

“It’s _definitely_ his problem!” Maddie says shrilly.

Buck rubs his eyes with one hand, still a little moist from the condensation on the beer bottle he’s holding against his knee.

“I hate Chimney.”

“You should have told me in the first place, _Evan_ ,” she emphasises his name hard, like when he was four and peed on the carpet by accident, “I shouldn’t have had to hear it from Chimney at all!”

“Well I didn’t tell Chimney,” he grumbles, “he... provoked me.”

“Yeah, I heard,” she says, rolling her eyes, “it’s only going to get worse you know.”

“Thanks, Maddie, that’s so helpful.”

She shoots him a glare over the lip of her bottle.

“You forget we grew up together,” she says, “I know what you get like. You have to tell him _something_ , he’s bound to notice something’s going on.”

“I’m not _like_ anything,” he insists. She stares at him, incredulous.

“You’re _so_ aggressive.”

“I am not!”

“Uh, yeah, you are,” Maddie takes a long pull from her bottle, “Remember the first time? You almost ripped some guy’s throat out on the Hershey Park boardwalk because he bumped my arm.”

“I was a teenager,” Buck whines, rolling his bottle between his hands. Maddie snorts.

“Nothing’s changed _that_ much.”

“I’m fully capable of controlling myself, Maddie,” Buck says, “your lack of faith is astounding.”

“Listen, any other time, you would have my _complete_ faith,” she tells him seriously, “but this thing with Eddie is different, you’ve never had someone like that around during your ruts before.”

Buck gives her a flat look. “He won’t be there for my rut.”

She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. Your instincts are all crazy right now and your control is tenuous at _best_ so just...”

“Just what, Maddie?” Buck passes a tired hand over his face again.

“Just be careful, that’s all I’m saying,” she sighs, “I still think you should talk to him about it, but I can make you, so. Just be careful.”

“You think I’m going to hurt him?” Buck asks. He picks at the skin by his thumbnail. The thought has crossed his mind. Maddie’s hand reaches out to stop his fidgeting.

“No,” she says firmly, “I know you’d _never_ hurt him—or Christopher.”

“Then what are you so worried about?”

“I just don’t want you to have any regrets,” she tells him quietly. He doesn’t know what to say to that, just takes another sip of his beer and stares out the window.

She doesn’t say anything else to him for a long time.

-

“Buck!” Christopher cries happily. He starts clattering across the pavement towards him. Buck grins, bending down to accept the big hug Christopher gives him.

Chris presses his face against Buck’s neck, snuffling against it wetly, his nose tight to Buck’s scent glands. Buck can’t help turning his own face into Christopher’s hair, breathing him in and rubbing his cheek down to the base of his neck. Christopher pulls back, beaming at him.

“Where’s daddy?” He asks. Buck hoists him up, settling him into the car and taking his backpack.

“Abuela needed some help in the garden,” Buck says, “so I told him I’d come get my favorite Diaz from school. We’re gonna go see him now.”

“Yes!” Chris cheers. “That means daddy’s not cooking tonight.”

Buck laughs. “Yeah, you lucked out.”

“I hope Abuela makes tamales,” Chris says. Buck grins at him in the rear view mirror.

“Me too, bud,” he replies, “she always makes enough for me to take home.”

He helps Christopher out of the car when they arrive, handing over his backpack and waving at Eddie’s abuela who’s watching them from the porch steps.

“Hi, Abuela!” Chris calls cheerfully, accepting the crutches Buck hands him and navigating carefully across the uneven pavement towards her.

“Hola, mijito,” she smiles down at him, running a hand over his neck and reaching out the other to pull Buck inside with them, “how was school?”

Buck follows quietly, shutting the door behind them as Chris chatters away. He can smell dinner in the oven, something meaty, and when he walks past the kitchen towards the back door he gets a whiff of masa, the bowls half clean in the sink. The smells of the food permeate the house, but the underlying _Abuela_ scent is comforting and soft, wrapped around him like a glove.

Eddie’s bent over the flower beds in the back yard, hacking away with a trowel and shining with sweat. Buck drags his eyes over him slowly, savoring the sight of his muscles through the dirty white tank top and messy jeans. Eddie looks up suddenly, face breaking out into a wide smile at the sight of Christopher making his way down the back steps.

Buck stays next to Abuela, leaning over the railing and watching Eddie greet his son with a big lick to his neck that makes Christopher squeal and dance away before he darts back in to squish his face to Eddie’s sweaty side. He’s giggling infectiously, and Buck smiles down at them as Eddie lets himself be tackled to the ground. He rolls over Christopher in the grass, growling playfully, and Chris’ eyes are shining bright blue and happy. Buck straightens.

“Eddie,” he calls, “you’re getting pretty close to buying him a new pair of jeans.”

Eddie sits back on his haunches, pulling Chris with him and whispering in his ear until the blue fades from his eyes again. They both stand, and Buck swallows as Eddie strips his damp tank top over his head. Christopher’s struggling out of his own shirt and pants as Eddie finally strips naked, sinking into his dark brown wolfskin with absolute ease. He prances around Chris, nipping at his heels as he giggles and squirms his pants off his ankles. He plops to the ground, naked and pale in the sunlight, and lets Eddie nose around him, wrapping his skinny arms around Eddie’s huge snout. Eddie licks a wet stripe over Chris’ face, upsetting his glasses as Chris lets out another shriek of laughter.

Christopher falls backwards onto the grass, rolling as he transforms into his wolf. He stands on spindly legs, wobbling a little as he gets used to the new center of gravity. His blond fur shines in the last dregs of the late afternoon sun, and he stumbles after his dad as the bigger wolf takes off across the garden. Buck sighs, gives Eddie’s Abuela a conspiratorial look, slumping over the railing again.

“Hope you still have those old towels we used last time.”

She laughs, her voice deep and resonant. “Perhaps you should turn the hose on them before we let them in the house.”

Buck grins, turns his face towards the garden where Eddie and Chris have stopped chasing each other and are now rolling in the muddy flower beds. “He’s undoing all his hard work.”

“Doesn’t bother me,” Abuela quips, “he can just do it again later.”

They both look down as Eddie comes over, eyes and coat dark like wet earth and slick with mud. He sticks his huge head through the slats in the railing, taking the hem of Buck’s jeans in his teeth and pulling. Buck laughs down at him, shaking him off.

“No way man,” he says. Eddie whines up at him, leaning his head against the porch and looking at him with huge eyes. Buck shakes his head, still smiling. “Not happening.”

Eddie sits back on his rump, giving Buck a mischievous look that’s entirely too human. Then he throws his head back and howls. Buck groans, but Abuela’s laughing as Christopher joins in delightedly, his voice high pitched and young.

Buck flaps his hands at them. “All right, all right, but _no_ mud.”

Eddie blinks innocently at him. Buck knows it’s a lost cause, and he sighs as he takes off his clothes. He folds them neatly as he goes, places them out of the way on the porch, then sinks into his wolfskin. He shakes out his coat, a golden color a few shades lighter than his hair, then picks his way down the porch steps onto the grass. As much as he complains, he always ends up acquiescing to whatever Eddie wants.

His breath is punched out of him when the man in question tackles him to the ground, rolling over and over until Buck finally ends on his back. He can hear Christopher’s excited yipping as he stumbles over to join the pile. Buck flails his hind legs, trying to shift them off, but he’s not trying that hard. He can hear Christopher’s delighted laughter in his head, and though Eddie’s not saying anything, he’s glowing, the bond between them lit up inside Buck with abject joy.

He does end up turning the hose on them, and himself. Abuela leaves towels on the porch while she goes to deal with dinner, and Buck transforms back into his muddy human self to unravel the hose. Chris and Eddie are still wrestling when he turns it on, and Chris falls out of his wolf skin with a shriek when Buck sprays him. Eddie transforms too, laughing hysterically and streaked with dirt, miles of golden skin on display.

Buck can’t help grinning, spraying Eddie too and making him splutter. Christopher laughs loudly in delight, scrambling over to Buck so he can get rinsed off properly. Eddie comes over to help, scrubbing the mud from Chris’ body with his hands. He lets Buck hose him down too, water sluicing over his skin in an absurdly attractive way. He tries to keep his eyes averted as he moves the spray down Eddie’s body, over his broad shoulders and flat stomach and thick thighs, blushing at the way the water collects in the thatch of hair around Eddie’s soft cock.

Eventually Buck hands the hose over, allows himself to be washed in the dying light of the sun by freezing cold water. When they’re all relatively clean, Buck leans up to the railing to grab the towels, hands one to Eddie and wraps one around Christopher and rubs him roughly as he giggles, his fluffy head poking out the top. Eddie goes to get their clothes from the pile they’re in in the middle of the yard while Buck dries himself off.

He leaves them on the grass to get his clothes, still on the porch, and dresses quickly to ward off the cold that comes with the sinking sun. Eddie appears next to him, Christopher on his hip, crutches dangling, and hands over the wet towels. Buck leads the way inside and goes to put the towels away in the laundry room at the back of the house.

He comes back to Abuela dishing out tamales, still in their husks, and shoots a wink at a grinning Christopher. He takes the empty seat next to him and peels the husk away from the filling, grabs Chris ’ fork and separates it into bites for him before he focuses on his own food. Abuela’s watching him with a smile and twinkling brown eyes, but Eddie hasn’t looked up from where he’s already digging into his own food.

“Eat all you like, mi amor,” Abuela tells him quietly, “there’s a Tupperware on the counter for you to take home.”

Buck grins, warmth filling his belly and his cheeks, and nods at her before finally settling in to eat his dinner.

-

“Buck?”

A finger pokes his cheek.

“ _Buck_.”

Another poke. Buck feels his face twitch, unglues his eyes to look up at Chris, standing over him where he’s laying on the couch. It’s still dark out, the room bathed that odd silvery color that comes with moonlight. Chris isn’t wearing his glasses, hair sleep rumpled and shirt askew. Buck struggles out of the blanket to sit up.

“What’s going on, bud?”

Christopher twists his fingers in his shirt, looking away sheepishly. “I can’t sleep.”

“You were fine when we checked on you earlier,” Buck frowns, “did you have a bad dream?”

Chris doesn’t speak, just nods. Buck reaches out to pull him into his lap, and he goes easily, curling up against Buck’s chest.

“You didn’t wanna go wake up your dad?” Buck asks quietly. Christopher shrugs.

“I don’t want to make him worry.”

Buck sighs. “Chris, you know he’d want to know.”

“I know,” Christopher whispers. Buck nods. He shifts Chris around in his arms so he can stand without letting him go. Chris yelps. “Where are we going?”

“To see your dad,” Buck says.

He carries Christopher down the hall and edges Eddie’s door open with his foot. Eddie’s sprawled across the bed, hair everywhere, face creased like he’s just rolled over, and Buck nudges him gently so he has room to put Chris next to him. He rolls but doesn’t wake, and Christopher reaches out to grab the hem of Buck’s shirt when he turns to go.

“Don’t leave,” he whispers, and Buck melts a little. He nods.

“Okay,” he says.

He has to round the bed to the other side where there’s room, but he climbs in anyway, pulls the covers up over himself and watches Chris curl up in his dad’s side. He can’t help scooting closer to Eddie, feels his body heat through their clothes and closes his eyes as sleep starts tugging at his consciousness.

“Good night, Buck,” Christopher says. Buck smiles, eyes still closed.

“Night, Chris.”

-

Chimney makes a face at him when he walks into the station. “Dude, you _stink_.”

“I do not!” Says Buck, offended. He lifts an arm, sniffs. Chimney grimaces.

“You stink like _Eddie_ , man,” he tells him, “what did you do, collect his sweat and then bathe in it?”

Buck glares. “That’s gross.”

“Well!” Chimney dodges the punch Buck aims at his shoulder. “Seriously, why do you smell like that?”

“It’s his shirt,” Buck admits grudgingly. He moves towards the locker room, Chimney hot on his heels. “I stayed over last night, Chris was begging.”

He dumps his bag on the bench and strips out of the shirt, his nose filling with Eddie’s scent as it covers his head. He shoves it in his locker, pulling on his uniform and ignoring Chimney hovering in the background.

“Are you sure it’s good for you to be around them so much when your rut’s coming up?” Chimney finally asks. He has the decency to keep his voice low, glancing around to make sure no one else is close enough to hear. Buck breathes out a frustrated breath, focusing on doing up the buttons on his shirt so he doesn’t do something stupid like smack Chimney across the face.

“I’m not gonna stop seeing Christopher,” he says firmly. He hears Chimney suck in a surprised breath.

“Buck…”

“ _What_ ,” he growls, turning on him. Chimney looks a little sympathetic.

“He’s not yours.”

Buck stops what he’s doing, leaning his hands against the locker and breathing in deeply and steadily. He’s fighting with himself, can feel the wolf roiling and snarling _mine mine mine_ like a mantra bleeding out of his skin. He takes a breath through his nose, catching a whiff of Eddie’s scent from the shirt still lying there.

“Chimney,” he says, as quietly and steadily as he can manage, “ _get out_.”

He hears Chimney scrambling, the door slamming, and he slaps a hand hard against his locker. He can feel the rut fever taking over more and more, he has to calm down. He squeezes his eyes shut tight, sucks in air through his teeth.

A hand lands on his shoulder and he jumps, turning to see Eddie’s concerned gaze trained on him. Eddie’s hand hovers over Buck’s shoulder where it slipped off when he moved, waiting for Buck to make a move. Buck whines, knowing he probably looks flushed and half feral, needing Eddie to just _do_ something. Eddie reaches out to him, hand on the back of his neck, and presses Buck’s face to his shoulder. Buck turns, breathing deep around the scent glands in Eddie’s neck and clutching at the back of his shirt.

Time feels syrupy as he calms down, dragging himself away from Eddie to look at him sheepishly from under his lashes. The fever has passed, for now, but he knows he’s getting closer. Eddie’s looking at him with a raised brow.

“You wanna tell me what the hell that was?” He asks.

Buck shrugs. “Chimney said something, it made me mad.”

“What did he say?”

“It’s not important,” Buck says, moving away fully. He shuts his locker, shooting Eddie a small smile. “Seriously, I flipped for no reason, don’t worry about it.”

He knows Eddie doesn’t believe him, and he beats a hasty exit before he can get interrogated further.

Hen’s giving him a look when he steps out of the locker room. He avoids her gaze and scrambles up the stairs to the kitchen, throat dry and desperate for a drink. And to avoid to his friends.

-

It’s dark when Buck wakes up, the moon somewhere high above him in a cloudless sky, casting shadows around his loft. He’s not sure what woke him, but he’s hot and sweaty under his covers. He pushes them off roughly, stands in just his boxers and stumbles over to the bathroom in the dark to take a piss.

He’s washing his hands when he hears a thump somewhere behind him in his bedroom. He shuts off the faucet, holding his breath as he listens for more sounds. He calms immediately when he recognizes Eddie’s heartbeat, loud and slow in the quiet apartment. Christopher’s is easily identifiable too, jackrabbit fast and a little scared.

“Eddie?” He calls as he exits the bathroom. Eddie turns to him from where he’s settling Chris into Buck’s bed. Christopher sits up straight.

“Buck!” He yelps. “I had a nightmare!”

Buck comes closer. “You did?”

“Chris, let me talk to Buck a second, okay?” Eddie says. He wraps a hand around Buck’s bicep and pulls him a few feet away, talks quietly so Chris’ underdeveloped senses won’t pick up on what they’re saying. “I’m sorry, he was dreaming about the tsunami and I tried everything but he just wanted you, and it’s so late and I—I should have called.”

“Eddie,” Buck sighs, “you don’t have to call before you come over here, you know that. Don’t be sorry for bringing him here.”

Eddie scrubs his eyes roughly, looking exhausted. “I just thought we were past this; he hasn’t had a dream like that in months, and then tonight I wake up and he’s screaming and crying and—”

“You don’t have to explain,” Buck cuts in. He reaches up to press a finger over Eddie’s pulse, feels it jump under his skin. “Healing isn’t linear, you know that. I don’t mind helping when I can.”

Eddie breathes out harshly, wrapping both hands around the one Buck has on his neck. “Thank you.”

Buck just smiles at him, knows his own heart is beating irregularly and doesn’t care. He tugs him over to the bed, pushes him down on his side and then crawls over him and Chris to collapse on the other side. He throws an arm over Christopher’s small body.

“You wanna tell me about your dream?” He murmurs into his hair.

“I was drowning,” Christopher says, and nothing more.

Buck swallows. It’s quiet for a moment, the only sound the in and out of their breaths, the steady thump of their hearts.

“Buck?” Christopher asks finally, his voice small. Buck sighs, passes a hand over Chris’ back.

“Yeah, bud?”

“I love you.”

Buck rolls his lips between his teeth, struggling against the tears suddenly burning his eyes. He takes a measured breath, lifting his eyes up to where Eddie is staring at him over Christopher’s head.

“I love you too, Chris.”

-

Eddie sits in the back of the firetruck, responding to a text from Carla about Christopher. The rest of the team is silent, swaying with the movements of the truck as it trundles down the road. He can barely see their faces when he looks up, the streetlights flashing through the windows and throwing them into sharp relief for brief moments. He turns back to his phone when it buzzes again, taps out a response.

Something brushes his shoulder, once, twice. Buck’s sitting next to him, his head lolling over until it lands, a soft pressure against his shoulder. He turns his head, gets a faceful of Buck’s messy curls. He snorts, faces forward again and rubs his nose to dispel the tickle. He has to strain over the rumble of the engine, but he can hear Buck’s breathing, deep and even. He puts a hand on Buck’s leg to keep him steady, looks up to see Hen and Chimney watching them. He raises an eyebrow.

“What?” He says. Buck’s headset is around his neck, so he knows Buck won’t hear anything that’s said. Hen and Chimney exchange a glance.

“Shouldn’t we wake him?” Hen asks. Chimney looks suspiciously smug when a streetlight illuminates his face.

Eddie points a stern finger at Hen. “You will not.”

Bobby turns to look at them from the captain’s seat, a concerned frown creasing his brows. “He fell asleep?”

“It’s been a long shift, you guys,” Eddie sighs, “just cut him some slack.”

“Eddie, this is the third time he’s fallen asleep in the truck in the last few days,” Chimney says, “you’re not worried about that?”

“No,” Eddie says firmly. He is, but he’s not gonna tell them that. He knows why Buck’s tired, and it’s not their business. That’s between him and Buck and Christopher.

His bluntness appears to have the desired effect. After another shared look, Hen and Chimney turn back to stare out the window without saying anything. Bobby’s still watching him over his shoulder, but he ignores it. Buck’s head is a steady pressure against his shoulder, rolling slightly as the truck moves. He leaves his hand where it is.

When they finally pull into the station, Eddie lets everyone get out of the truck first, waits with Buck pressed to his side for the cabin to be empty. He takes off his headset, leaves it in its place next to his seat, then shakes Buck’s leg gently.

“Buck,” he murmurs. Buck makes a little whining nose in his throat, turns his face into Eddie’s neck.

Eddie shakes him again. “Buck, wake up.”

Buck whines again, his hand flailing a little and hitting Eddie in the side. Eddie huffs out a breath, turning a little so Buck’s head slips off his shoulder. Buck makes a wounded noise, his head coming up to stare blearily at Eddie.

“What?” He mumbles.

Eddie snorts, patting Buck’s leg. “Time to go home, man.”

Buck looks around, seems to realize where they are. “Oh. Didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“S’okay,” Eddie shrugs.

He pauses, watches Buck rub the sleep from his eyes with his knuckles. Buck moves, putting his headset away, and makes to leave the truck. Eddie reaches out a hand to stop him, and Buck looks back, his eyes a stark blue in the fluorescence. Eddie swallows.

“Buck, you’d—“ he cuts himself off, squeezes Buck’s arm. “You’d tell me if helping Chris was too much, right?”

“Of course.” Buck looks confused.

Eddie nods, bites his lip. “I just don’t want to take advantage.”

“You’re not,” Buck assures him, turning more fully to face him on the bench. His face is open and earnest, and he gives Eddie a little smile. “You know I love Christopher, I’m happy to help.”

“You’re not sleeping enough,” Eddie murmurs. Buck shakes his head.

“Christopher’s more important.”

Eddie’s breath freezes in his chest, his heart giving an odd _thump_ against his ribs. “Do you really believe that?”

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t,” Buck says quietly.

They sit in silence for a moment, Eddie trying to get his heart rate under control. Finally, Eddie reaches out to pass a hand over Buck’s neck, can’t help the way he wants his scent to linger on Buck’s skin so everyone knows who he belongs to. Eddie’s wolf rumbles its approval at the thought, and he presses just a little harder, watches the skin around his hand pale and flush in turn as he pulls his hand away again. He meets Buck’s eyes, hoping he hasn’t over stepped. Buck’s a little flushed, but he doesn’t look angry. Eddie’ll take that.

“Come over?” He asks. “Carla says Chris has been asking for us.”

Buck’s face breaks into a pleased smile. “Nothing would make me happier.”

Eddie grins back. “Let’s go, then.”

-

“Buck, my office,” Bobby calls across the loft.

Buck looks up from his book, sees Eddie sit up from where he’d been dozing on the other couch. Bobby’s already turned away, leaving the door to his office wide open behind him. Chimney and Hen are standing at the kitchen counter, ostensibly making something to eat but actually just throwing food at each other when the other isn’t looking. Buck and Eddie exchange a look, before Buck stands and follows Bobby into his office.

“Did I do something wrong?” Buck asks. He doesn’t wait for the door to swing closed behind him.

Bobby sighs, gesturing to the seat in front of his desk with a slight smile. “No, Buck, sit down.”

Buck sits, eyeing Bobby suspiciously as he shuffles some papers around his desk. There’s a picture on the shelf behind him of his wedding, and it always catches Buck’s eye when he’s in here. Bobby gives him a gentle look across the table and folds his arms over his stomach.

“What’s going on, Buck?” He asks. Buck feels confused.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, where do I start?” He looks mildly amused, though there’s clear concern in the lines around his eyes. “How about the fact that you’re clearly not getting enough sleep?”

Buck blows out a heavy breath. “It’s fine, it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“What is?” Bobby leans forward, expression open and calm. “Talk to me, Buck, I want to know.”

Buck glances over his shoulder, unsure how much he’s allowed to tell him. Bobby just waits, watching.

“Christopher’s been having nightmares again,” Buck admits quietly.

Bobby raises an eyebrow. “What does that mean for you?”

“Late night phone calls, sleepovers,” Buck ticks them off on his fingers, “lots of clingy hugging when I try to go home. The works.”

“Has Eddie thought about taking him back to therapy?” Bobby asks.

Buck shrugs. “I don’t know. I haven’t asked.”

“Listen,” Bobby sighs, clasping his hands over the table and looking Buck in the eye. It’s the kind of thing that made him bristle when he first started, a clear signal from an alpha male that Buck is not in charge, something Bobby rarely pulls but is effective at employing nonetheless. “I know you care a lot about Christopher, and Eddie, but I see you running yourself ragged over this with no clear solution, and I have to worry.”

“It’s not that bad,” Buck protests, though he averts his eyes so Bobby knows he’s not challenging him. He tried that once, and he remembers it not going well. “It’s not going to affect my work.”

“I’m not worried about your work,” Bobby tells him. He pauses. “Well, not really. I am worried about you. I know your rut’s coming up, and things get easily confused, lines get blurred—I just don’t want to see you get hurt when this is all said and done.”

Buck sinks in his chair, face hot and flushed. “Chim’s got a big mouth.”

“Even if Chim didn’t say anything, I would have noticed,” Bobby smiles sympathetically, “you’re not exactly subtle.”

Buck picks at the seam of his pants, keeps his eyes down. “I’m _trying_.”

“I know,” Bobby sits back in his chair again, posture open and nonthreatening, “Look, I’m not going to tell Eddie, that’s your business. But you and I both know he needs to know.”

Buck feels a flash of anger, swallows around it and clenches a fist hard on his knee. “Why does everyone keep saying that to me? He’s not my mate, it’s not his business.”

Bobby just sits quietly for a moment, eyes flashing a silvery color that makes the wolf in Buck cower. Bobby’s been his alpha for years, and he’s never hurt Buck, but it doesn’t change the automatic reaction when Bobby pulls rank on him. He closes his eyes, knows he’s closer to turning than the situation warrants.

“Buck,” Bobby finally says, and Buck breathes deeply around the resonant tone that soothes him into submission, “I know you know that your wolf doesn’t care if he’s not your mate. You are _his_ in every way that matters, and it’s going to start showing the closer you get to your rut. How long, do you think?”

“Maybe like two weeks,” Buck mumbles, “I’ve already started getting flashes.”

Bobby hums, “So two weeks is generous, then.”

“Probably,” Buck sighs, rubs a hand over his brow. He feels tired, all of a sudden, doesn’t want to be having this conversation anymore. He can see Hen and Chim in the mirror over Bobby’s desk, staring through the window and not even pretending they’re not eavesdropping. Bobby stands up, leans over the desk on his hands.

“I’m giving you next week off,” he says. Buck wants to protest, but Bobby’s tone leaves no room for argument. “I remember last year. I want you to take it easy, stay away from high stress situations. You’ve got a hair trigger right now, you’re lucky I’m letting you finish the week out at all.”

“What are you gonna tell the team?” Buck asks. Bobby shrugs.

“Hen and Chim already know,” he points out, “it’s up to you what you want to tell Eddie.”

-

Buck stands at Eddie’s kitchen counter, watching Eddie trying to explain something to Christopher where he’s doing his homework at the dining table. He probably shouldn’t do it while Chris is listening. Right? It’s not a conversation you have with an eight year old. He doesn’t think. Maybe Eddie’s already had that talk with him.

He knows he’s being a chicken. Maybe he _should_ have let someone else tell Eddie, then he wouldn’t be in this position. He turns away from the two of them, focuses on not burning dinner. He lets the sounds of the house settle his nerves, flips the chops and turns off the broccoli boiling in the pot at the back of the stove. It doesn’t take long to plate everything, puts some cheese on Chris’ broccoli in the hopes he’ll actually eat it and not just turn up his nose.

“Chris, go wash your hands,” he says, carrying two plates into the dining room. He lets Eddie push Christopher’s homework into a pile in the middle of the table and sets the plates down. Christopher clatters off to do as he’s told and Buck goes to retrieve the last plate from the kitchen.

“Smells good,” Eddie murmurs, leaning over his plate and breathing deep. The light in the dining room is soft and warm, and Eddie’s glowing under it. Buck has to force himself to look away, staring into his mashed potatoes.

“Thanks,” he answers.

They wait in silence for Christopher to come back. When he finally sits, he starts chattering about the science project that’s due next week. The potatoes and the pork disappear quickly, and he keeps talking as he pushes the broccoli around his plate. Buck eyes him, shares a glance with Eddie. Eddie raises his brows, flicking his eyes pointedly towards Christopher. Buck narrows his eyes back, and Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Chris,” he says, “you gotta eat your broccoli.”

Christopher pouts. “It’s gross.”

“It’s not gross,” Eddie tells him, “Buck even put cheese on it like you like. You’re hurting his feelings.”

Buck gives Chris his saddest look, trying to keep his mouth from twitching up into the smile that’s threatening to take over his face. Chris looks at him for a moment, assessing, before heaving the biggest, most put-upon sigh. He spears a floret with his fork.

“Fine, but I’m making a face the entire time,” he grumbles.

Eddie shoots Buck a wink and goes back to his dinner. Buck knows he’s blushing, and hides his smile in his water glass.

-

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you?” Eddie asks.

Buck looks up from where he’s been fidgeting with his phone on the couch. Eddie’s standing in the hallway that leads to the bedrooms, and there’s a crease on the inside of his bicep from where Christopher’s glasses had been pressing while they read his nightly story. Buck loves being around for bedtime, loves getting to press a kiss to Christopher’s head and wish him sweet dreams and make sure he’s tucked in tight. It doesn’t hurt that he wakes up less when Buck helps put him down.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Buck says, looking back down at his phone as Eddie makes his way over to the couch. He sits next to Buck and props up his head against the arm he leans on the back of it.

“Something’s been going on for weeks now,” Eddie murmurs, “Nobody’s said anything but Chimney’s been walking on eggshells around you and then the other day you got pulled into Bobby’s office—I’m just worried.”

Buck sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Don’t be worried it’s— _embarrassing_.”

“What is?” Eddie presses.

Buck takes another deep breath, feels his face flaming and his heart pounding and a band contracting around his lungs. Eddie still looks concerned, more so as he can clearly hear Buck’s heart skipping a beat.

“My rut’s the week after next,” he says. He looks straight up at the ceiling, hears Eddie holding his breath. His eyes feel hot and he knows he must be beat red. “Bobby gave me next week off, ‘cause I get kind of aggressive the closer it gets.”

“You haven’t been aggressive,” Eddie says. Buck snorts.

“I don’t think Chim’ll agree with you.”

“Well, I haven’t seen you be,” Eddie amends. Buck finally looks over at him. He hasn’t moved, still looking at Buck with calm eyes, fist pressed to his temple. The only sign that he’s feeling anything is the way his heart thumps irregularly in his chest.

Buck swallows. “If you want me to keep my distance, I understand.”

Eddie sits up, his gaze suddenly sharp. “Why would I want that?”

“You have Christopher to think about,” Buck points out. Eddie narrows his eyes.

“Were you planning to hurt Christopher?”

“ _No_ ,” Buck yelps, and he’s suddenly sitting up straight too, his posture mirroring Eddie’s, “Never, Eddie, you have to know—“

“I _do_ know,” Eddie cuts in. He places a hand against the side of Buck’s neck, his thumb soothing over Buck’s pulse point. “I told you before, and I’ll tell you again, Buck. I don’t trust anyone with Chris the way I trust you. I need _you_ to trust _yourself_.”

Buck swallows, looking away from Eddie’s brown brown eyes. He picks at the edge of his phone case, forgotten on his lap. Eddie’s hand falls from his neck, leaving him cold as goosebumps break out over his skin.

“Do you need anything?” Eddie asks quietly.

Buck looks up at him through his lashes. _Just you_ , he thinks. He forces a smile, shakes his head.

“No,” he says, “I’m fine.”

-

“Chris?” Eddie calls. He’s not sure what he’s looking at.

He hears the clatter of crutches approach the laundry room and looks up as Christopher darkens the doorway. He holds up the fabric in his hands.

“What’s this?” He asks, keeping his voice purposefully even. Chris lurches forward to snatch it out of his hands.

“Don’t wash it,” he yelps, and Eddie can’t help but stare at him in shock as he brings it to his nose to inhale.

“Chris, I need you to tell me what’s going on,” Eddie says quietly. Christopher looks guiltily up at him from where his nose is still half buried in a mound of fabric.

“It’s Buck’s,” he finally murmurs. Eddie raises an eyebrow.

“I know it’s Buck’s,” he says, “what I want to know is why it’s hiding in your laundry basket.”

“I just miss him sometimes,” Chris says quietly. Eddie feels a little stunned.

“And his scent helps?” He asks carefully. Chris nods.

“I know I shoulda asked before taking it,” Chris says, “but when you were gone mommy used to give me one of your shirts to make me feel better, so I just thought...”

“Chris,” Eddie sighs, dropping to his knees in front of him, “it’s not the same.”

“Why not?” Christopher demands. Eddie struggles for a moment, reaching out to worry the soft fabric of Buck’s sweatshirt with his fingers. He can barely smell it from here, and he inhales deep to try and catch it more clearly.

“Buck’s not your dad, mijo,” he says quietly. Christopher takes a step back, glaring.

“Only ’cause you won’t let him be,” he growls. He’s gripping Buck’s sweater hard, and his eyes are unnaturally blue. Eddie knows he has to de-escalate fast—Chris doesn’t have enough control over his wolf yet to stop the turn once it starts.

“Okay, okay,” he puts his hands out, “listen, it’s not up to me. But that doesn’t mean that Buck doesn’t love you, okay? You just have to ask before you take his stuff.”

Christopher eyes him warily for a second, then nods slowly, the wild light in his eyes fading back to normal. Eddie breathes a sigh of relief.

“Are you gonna tell Buck I took his sweater?” Christopher asks, suddenly meek.

“Yeah, buddy,” Eddie tells him, “we probably need to have a conversation with Buck about this.”

-

Christopher looks nervous. Eddie looks tired. Buck’s not sure what’s going on. They’ve been weird since they showed up at his door.

“Uh,” he says. He watches Eddie give Chris a pointed nudge under the table. “What’s going on?”

“Chris has something he wants to say to you,” Eddie tells him. He’s still boring holes into Christopher’s head.

Christopher sighs. “I’m sorry for taking your sweater, Buck.”

“You took my sweater?” He asks, confused. Christopher leans over to his bag and pulls out one of his LAFD academy sweatshirts, old and worn and grey. He takes it when Chris holds it out. “So you did.”

Chris looks up at him over his glasses. “Are you mad?”

“What?” Buck’s still not sure what’s going on. “No, why would I be mad?”

Christopher glances over at Eddie, who sighs. “Because we don’t take things without asking, right, Chris?”

Christopher nods, looking very earnestly back at Buck. They’re both waiting for him to say something. He startles.

“Oh, uh,” he clears his throat, “it’s okay, Christopher, just ask next time, okay?”

Christopher nods, glancing over at Eddie again and bolting as soon as he gets a nod of approval. Eddie drops his head into his hands.

“I’m so sorry, Buck,” he murmurs.

Buck’s still supremely confused. “Why on earth are you sorry?”

“My kid’s a thief,” Eddie snorts, looking up at Buck and propping his chin on his hand, “and he’s scenting you without your consent, which is frankly not a conversation I know how to have with him.”

Buck glances down at the sweater in his hands. “I don’t mind.”

“You don’t?” Eddie sounds incredulous, but Buck doesn’t look up.

“No, I mean,” Buck swallows hard, fiddles with one of the strings from the hood. He pauses. “I don’t mind.”

Eddie eyes him for a second. Buck finally looks up to meet his eyes, hoping he hasn’t let too much slip.

“Maybe,” Eddie says, “maybe you could give him something?”

“Are you okay with that?” Buck can barely breathe around the tightness in his chest. He wants, he wants, he _wants_.

Eddie shrugs a little. “Yeah, I mean. He said it makes him feel better. If it doesn’t make you uncomfortable, why should I deny him that?”

“You shouldn’t,” Buck says quietly. He forces a smile, “I can give him something.”

He goes upstairs, looks around the loft, tries to think what would be appropriate to give to an eight year old. He settles for pulling a pillowcase off one of his pillows, then takes it back downstairs to where Christopher and Eddie are now on the couch, the tv playing quietly in the background.

Eddie looks up to meet his eyes, and Buck feels nervous. He lifts the pillowcase in askance, and swallows when Eddie nods slightly. He steels himself, walks over to Chris and kneels in front of him, tapping his knee to get his attention.

Buck smiles at him, holds out the pillowcase. “Here, Chris.”

Christopher takes it from him, a little wide eyed. “I get to keep it?”

“Until you need something else,” Buck says. He pauses, glances over at Eddie. “I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me if you need something. I’m always here, Chris.”

Christopher eyes him for a second, then leans down tentatively. Buck realizes what he’s doing, offers his throat so Christopher can faceplant against him, his glasses squishing up to his forehead. Buck shifts up higher on his knees so he can press his face against Christopher’s neck, breathing in the scent of _home_ and _family_ and _pack_. He can smell Eddie, sharp and dark, and Abuela and Pepa, faint and flowery, and to his utmost pleasure, he can smell himself, intertwined with the people most important in Christopher’s life.

Christopher’s making a pleased little rumbling sound in his chest as he snuffles against Buck’s neck, and Buck feels himself making an answering sound without thinking. His wolf, so close to the surface these days, is finally quiet, satisfied that Christopher smells so much like his.

Christopher pulls away, finally, a contented smile on his face. He shoves his glasses back into place and waves a hand at Eddie.

“Now dad,” he says.

Buck looks up at him, ready to protest, but Eddie’s eyes are dark and he falls to his knees next to Buck without complaint. His breath is hot on Buck’s neck, and he feels a shiver rattle down his spine as he turns his face to inhale Eddie.

He never wants to move from this spot, Eddie’s scent clogging his lungs and his head and making him dizzy. He smells dark and sweet and a little sharp, and Buck’s mouth waters. All the times they’ve done this before, it’s not been like this, like Buck’s out to sea and Eddie is the water, salty and cold and dragging him under.

He hears a whining noise, realizes it’s him, Eddie’s mouth open and pressed against the scent gland on Buck’a neck. His skin is tingling and he can feel his own mouth open in response, his canines dropping because his wolf is _ready._

He jerks back, falling onto his ass and staring at Eddie, who’s also flushed pink in his cheeks and ears, eyes glowing honey brown. His lips are still parted, and he watches him swallow hard against prominent canines. Buck clears his throat. Clears it again. His neck is still wet from Eddie’s mouth and he’s not sure he’s ever going to be able to forget that sensation, knows he smells aroused and prays that neither Eddie nor Christopher can tell.

“Buck, I’m _so_ sorry,” Eddie croaks, sounding wounded and a little muffled around the teeth he’s still struggling to pull back in, “I didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry.”

Buck shakes his head, trying to break the spell. “It’s fine, we both got carried away.”

“God, I don’t know what came over me,” Eddie mumbles, collapsing against the leg of the couch. Christopher is looking between them, confused.

“What happened?” He asks. Buck looks at Eddie, who finally seems to have gotten himself under control.

“Nothing, mijo,” he says, and he stands, shaking out his limbs, “sometimes adults just get confused, it’s fine.”

Buck watches him, still on the floor.

“Yeah,” he says, “fine.”

-

“What the hell is this?” Maddie yelps. The car’s speakers are blasting Baby Shark Radio and a frankly insane volume, and Maddie scrambles to turn it off. Buck winces.

“Sorry,” he says, “Christopher likes it.”

“Doesn’t explain why it’s the first thing that plays in _your car_ ,” Maddie points out, doing up her seatbelt. Buck shoots her a little glare, putting his hand on the back of her seat as he reverses out of the space and puts the car in drive so they can get going.

“You know I’ve been watching him while I’ve been off,” Buck tells her, eyes on the road. He can feel her gaze on the side of his head.

“Have you talked to Eddie yet?” She asks finally, her voice quiet.

Buck sighs. “I talked to him last week.”

“And?”

“And nothing, Maddie,” Buck says, “I told him my rut’s coming up, and he’s fine with me still being around.”

“I was never worried about that,” she rolls her eyes, “he didn’t… _offer_ or anything?”

“Oh my god,” Buck groans. If he hadn’t been driving he would have closed his eyes and smacked his head against the wheel. “No he didn’t _offer_ , are you insane?”

“It’s not insane to think he might want to help you!” She says. He scrubs a hand over his nose.

“Maddie, stop,” he sighs, “you know it’s not like that, and, frankly, I’m a little tired of his lack of feelings for me being thrown in my face at every opportunity.”

“I think you’re crazy,” Maddie tells him. He gives her a look. “Oh my _god_ , Evan, the guy is so clearly in love with you it’s baffling to me that you can’t see it.”

“I’m done talking about this,” Buck says. His heart is pounding, his belly clenching around his nerves. Maddie heaves a huge, put-upon sigh.

“Fine, but just wait ’til your rut hits,” she mumbles, turning to stare out the window, “if he doesn’t make a move on you, I’ll eat my hat.”

-

“Hey, Chris!” Chimney looks delighted as they walk into the station, waving from the loft. “What’re you guys doing here?”

“Visiting daddy!” Chris announces, curls wild and smile wide. Buck can’t keep the grin off his face. “Where is he?”

“He’s with Bobby in the office,” Chim says, watching them slowly make their way up the stairs, “they should be out soon, it’s almost lunchtime.”

Eddie looks ecstatic when he joins them a moment later, brown eyes bright and crinkled with his smile.

“Did I know you guys were coming?” He asks, bending to give Christopher a hug.

Buck shrugs. “Didn’t feel like making lunch.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, detaching from Chris to wrap his arms around Buck’s shoulders. Buck gives him a squeeze, his wolf finally settling as he subconsciously presses his face to Eddie’s neck for a moment.

Lunch is a rambunctious affair, as it usually is at the fire house. Buck feels settled, can ignore the rut looming on the horizon when he’s surrounded by his family like this, doesn’t feel so untethered when Eddie’s pressed against his shoulder and Christopher’s laughing on his other side.

They’re lucky not to be interrupted by the bell, as they often are, and Buck and Chris follow Eddie to the couch while some of the probies clean up after lunch is over. Eddie hands Chris a video game controller, and they play for a while, Chris shouting and laughing and Buck egging them on as Eddie loses.

Eventually, Christopher gets up to use the bathroom, and Buck slides down off the arm of couch where he’d been perched to sit by Eddie.

“Did you actually bring him because you didn’t want to make lunch?” Eddie asks. He’s smirking a little, like he knows what a weak excuse it was. Buck glares at him.

“Why else?”

“I’m just saying,” Eddie shrugs, “maybe you missed me.”

“Or maybe your _son_ did,” Buck points out. He can feel a flush starting high on his cheekbones. Eddie’s still giving him a smug little look.

“Christopher’s _way_ less codependent than you are,” Eddie says. Buck’s most drops open, offended, and he turns when Hen snorts behind him.

“What?” She asks, looking like a cat that got the canary. “He’s not wrong.”

“I’m gonna go see what’s taking so long,” Buck says abruptly, standing and clapping Eddie on the shoulder as he passes, “we should get going soon.”

“Bring him up to say goodbye,” Eddie calls after him. Buck waves a hand behind him and descends the stairs.

As he reaches the bottom, he stops. He can hear Christopher’s heartbeat nearby, which shouldn’t be possible if he were still in the bathroom. He sounds scared, his heart thumping a little wildly. Buck feels fear clutch at his belly, his own heartbeat ratcheting up in response to Christopher’s. 

He follows the noise around the ambulance and the first ladder truck. Behind the second one stands Christopher, who’s cowering away from one of the new recruits. He has a hand gripped hard in the shoulder of Christopher’s shirt, clearly scolding him for something, and Buck sees red. His wolf rears its ugly head and he roars, stepping forward unthinkingly to grab the other man by the shirt collar.

“Get your hand off my son before I rip your throat out with my teeth,” Buck snarls.

His entire world has narrowed to the point of contact between the other man’s hand and Christopher’s shoulder, his own hands shaking with barely suppressed rage. The other man takes his hand off Christopher, but he stands up straight, posturing. Buck releases him, grabs Chris and pulls him close, putting himself between him and the other man. He vaguely registers the sound of Bobby and his team arriving around them.

“I didn’t know he was your kid, man,” the guy says, but he doesn’t look away from Buck’s eyes, doesn’t bare his neck, just crosses his arms and stares him down. “He shouldn’t be wandering around touching stuff.”

“I just wanted to see the hose,” Chris says from behind Buck’s leg.

Buck is really struggling to remain in control, knows he hasn’t stopped growling at any point during the conversation. He’s drawn up to his full height, and the world feels narrow in that way that means his eyes are glowing unnaturally.

Bobby’s suddenly between them, a solid wall that Buck can’t see around.

“Anderson,” Bobby says, “take a walk.”

He doesn’t turn around to face Buck, just gestures at someone behind Anderson who shoulder checks him as he walks away. Eddie comes up beside Buck, puts a hand on Christopher and checks him over. Once he’s satisfied that Chris is fine, he stands to look Buck over.

Buck is shaking, rolling his shoulders against the turn that’s curling around his spine and threatening to rip him apart. He can’t breathe, chest tight and hot and world still red around the edges. He can feel Eddie’s hands on his neck, but it’s not helping. The rut fever is taking over, and he’s incapable of stopping it this time.

Eddie’s heart is pounding as Buck finally looks at him, eyes wild and bright blue. His cheeks are flushed pink, a perfect match to the birthmark that sits above his eye, and his jaw pops as he grinds his teeth. Eddie doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t move his hands from Buck’s neck, a gentle pressure against his pulse point. Buck shudders, shoulders shaking, and he blows out a breath.

“Take me home,” he says. He sounds calm, completely at odds with his agitated body. Eddie startles, looks behind him to see the team staring.

“Buck, I—“

“Eddie,” Bobby speaks up, “ _go_.”

Eddie swallows hard, nods at Bobby. He turns to Buck and Chris, who’s still cowering a little behind Buck’s legs. He gives Buck a push, grabbing Christopher and hurrying them out of the station.

“What’s going on?” Chris asks, voice small and scared. Eddie looks down at him, trying to project calm while simultaneously keeping the pace brisk towards Buck’s jeep. “Is Buck okay?”

“He’s going to be fine, Chris,” Eddie says, trying not to focus on the way Buck’s staring straight ahead with his hands clenched at his sides, silent. “Hop up.”

He gets Christopher settled in his seat, stows the crutches and shuts the door before manhandling Buck into the passenger seat. Buck makes a wounded noise, leaning towards Eddie with half lidded eyes.

“How we doing, Buck?” He murmurs, leaning down to try to catch Buck’s eyes. Buck hums, his eyes still glowing unnaturally.

“Just need,” Buck mumbles, swaying all the way forward to press his face to Eddie’s neck.

Eddie inhales sharply, feels a bolt of arousal at the noise Buck makes as he breathes him in. He has to force himself to push Buck back into his seat, leans over to buckle him in.

“Just hang in there, buddy,” he says.

Buck whines, looking at Eddie dazedly. Eddie shuts the door on him before he does something stupid. He has to get Christopher to Abuela’s—they’re running out of time.

-

As soon as the door shuts behind them, Buck is on Eddie. Eddie can’t think, can just feel Buck’s pressed against him, the hot line of his erection prominent against his hip. Buck’s panting like he’s been running, and he’s flushed bright red all the way up to his hairline and down his neck. He whines, yanking at Eddie’s clothes and grinding against him like he can’t help it. Eddie struggles, grabs Buck’s hands and forces him away, just for a second, just for a breath.

“Buck, you—” he has to fight not to let himself be pulled under, Buck looming over him and huge, “you’re out of your mind, you don’t want—”

“I do,” Buck whines, falling forward to lean his head against Eddie’s, eyes shut tight, “ _Please_ , Eddie.”

Eddie is helpless against that, tilts his face into Buck’s to take his mouth in a bruising kiss. Buck makes a noise against him, pressing tight to him to grind his hard cock into Eddie’s belly. Eddie can feel his wolf rising, responding to Buck’s energy, and he pushes Buck towards his bedroom. They bump and grind all the way down the hallway, and Eddie feels drunk with it, stripping off Buck’s shirt and his pants and his briefs until they stand naked in front of Eddie’s bed.

Eddie pushes him down, and he lands with a bounce, miles of muscle on display as Buck wriggles into the center of the bed. He stretches out, like he’s preening under Eddie’s attention—maybe he is, the cocky asshole. His cock is hard and flushed against his belly, weeping a sticky trail that makes Eddie’s mouth water a little. He falls onto his hands and knees over Buck, leans down to kiss him again, can feel how hot Buck is with his rut. He pulls away to breathe, buries his face in Buck’s neck where his scent is strong, feels his gums ache with the urge to open wide and clamp down and make Buck his.

He forces himself away, trails open-mouthed kisses down Buck’s chest, tastes his burning skin and the salt of sweat and _wants_. He finally reaches his destination, presses his face into Buck’s groin where his scent is strongest, musky and briny, and sucks a long breath. He can feel Buck twitching and shuddering under him, can’t help opening his mouth and sucking a hickey into the skin by the base of Buck’s cock. A desperate noise claws its way out of Buck’s throat, and Eddie’s cock throbs against his belly. He resists the urge to grind against the mattress, wants to focus on the taste of Buck in his mouth and nothing else.

He leans back up, strokes a hand over Buck’s flank, and watches through his lashes as he bends to take Buck’s cock into his mouth. Buck jerks, legs flailing out and spreading wide to give Eddie room to work. He shakes as Eddie bobs his head, taking Buck as deep as he can without choking. He reaches under him to run a dry finger over Buck’s hole. Buck’s hips jerk up, and Eddie rears back to compensate. He pulls off with a pop that makes his own nerves sing with anticipation.

“Yeah?” He breathes. Buck makes an eager sound, beyond words it seems, and rolls over, exposing himself entirely to Eddie.

Eddie can’t feel his face, looking down at him. The act itself is so vulnerable, and that he’s trusting Eddie, mid-rut, _presenting_ , like he wants Eddie to just take what he wants from him, makes Eddie dizzy. He falls forward to bite _hard_ against Buck’s right cheek, loves the sound it sparks from Buck and the bruise he knows it’ll leave.

He has to lean over Buck to rummage around the drawer that he knows the lube is in, then sits back on his heels so he can slick up his fingers. The first one goes in easier than expected, Buck pushing back onto it and making a sound like he’s dying. Eddie takes his time, works him up to three and then keeps pumping until Buck’s whimpering under him in a voice that Eddie will never be able to unhear. He pulls his fingers out, slicks himself liberally, and starts pushing in.

Buck finally starts talking, tiny quiet “ _oh god oh god oh god”_ s that wrap around Eddie’s heart and threaten to stop it. He’s hot and tight around Eddie’s cock, velvety and perfect, and when he seats himself inside Buck in his entirety, he has to take a second to collect himself. Buck’s rolling his hips back against him, trying to make him move, and Eddie wants so much to give him what he needs. He shifts on his knees, pulls out, then pushes back in, setting a reasonable pace that quickly falls apart the more noise Buck makes. He’s begging and pleading under Eddie, voice shot to hell and sending jolts of pleasure through Eddie’s abdomen as he fucks harder into him.

He feels wild, draping himself over Buck’s sweaty back and wrapping his arms around his stomach so he can feel Buck’s body rock with his thrusts. The room is full of noise, slapping skin and panting breaths and desperate sounds that could be coming from either of them, and Eddie can’t _breathe_ around how good he feels from his head to his toes. He has to, he _has_ to.

The taste of blood sends him over the edge, spilling into Buck’s body and clamping his teeth hard into Buck’s neck, every nerve in his body lit up. Buck’s shaking apart underneath him too, an unintelligible noise breaking free of his lungs that makes Eddie bite harder. He can feel his cock swelling between them, can feel Buck’s body stretching to accommodate him as he grows and spills and spills.

Finally, he releases Buck’s neck, soothing over the bite with his tongue, lapping at it as he makes tiny circles with his hips, his orgasm still tingling around his edges. Buck’s collapsed against the bed under him, still quivering a little. Eddie reaches down to grasp Buck’s knot, knows he’ll need pressure on it if it’s going to go down. He makes a relieved sound, allows Eddie to roll them so they’re on their sides.

They’re quiet for a while, waiting for their knots to go down. Eddie feels content, feels Buck’s presence at the back of his mind like the low hum of a nearby bee. He thinks he should be worried, having mated Buck without asking, but he’s not. He can feel Buck, can feel his joy resonating between them, and knows he didn’t make a mistake. This, here, the two of them, was inevitable.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr @queenginnys! 
> 
> Shoutout to my friend abby for putting up with my constant need for validation during this process and also @pan-buck on tumblr for betaing my smut because im a weenie


End file.
